My Day as a Skeleton

 
The wind streamed through my eye sockets as I ran, a small echo followed me, the rapid click of my feet against cement. My attacker's eyes gleamed behind me, and I pictured him smelling my fear, as strong and as lethal as sulfur. If only I had known what this day would have brought, I never would have left my coffin...

 Understand that my delimma begins in the problem that I am dead. As a skeleton, I am only granted access to the world of the living one night a year- the Day of the Dead. For one day out of 365, I may return to accept companionship of the living, and enjoy my former earthly body. One small problem: the whole idea has sort of a Cinderella theme. Once the clock strikes the pumpkin hour, back to the grave I go. If, however, I should still be meandering about, I still resume my decomposed form. All of the consequences beside, I had left the land of the living young, and all I wanted was a chance to live again… even if it was only for twenty-four hours.

The day I died I was fifteen years old, and it was about a month after my birthday. I was supposed to be writing a story for literature about my day as a vampire or witch or something, and I was having a mental block and was starting to get very frustrated. I ended up calling upon a friend for inspiration, and after nearly pulling the cord out of the wall I quickly slid down slippery stairs and grabbed the portable phone. I was proceeding to climb up again into my lair, when it happened. I never was very coordinated, and running up stairs probably wasn't a wise choice, but when I was two away from the top, I slipped. When I came to, I was looking at my mangled body, my head bent back and tucked under my neck, my mother’s screams echoing off of the ceiling That was my last day alive. Later that day, when I went to the world of the dead, they explained the basic rules of haunting, exorcism and being a poltergeist, as well as the Halloween rule. Needless to say I was ecstatic to get a chance to return- and I was determined to make Halloween 2002 make up for my lost childhood.

Now as I run, I grin at the naïve thoughts that had passed through my skull the few hours before. I had gone to a party, a celebration much missed among the dead. The night air had smelled crisp and untainted with the stench of decomposing flesh, and fabrics and objects were felt with sensitive fingertips. Sweet succulent chocolate filled the bowls, candy’s of all sorts littering the table like edible glitter. Music, dancing, human interaction… it was my love. This is what I remembered, what I craved when I was alive, as well as what I took for granted. I didn’t even know who hosted the party, I don’t remember where it was, and I don’t especially know how I got there, but none of that mattered. For the first time in a year, I was alive, and in more ways than one. As I was indulging in a candy apple, I noticed a large dog in the corner. He seemed non-threatening and reminded me of a dog I once had, and we both seemed to feel out of place. I walked over to him and offered him a bite of my apple, which he took gladly. After a few minutes, a hand tapped my shoulder. Upon looking up, my eyes met the greenest pair of eyes I had ever seen. Without a word he took my hand and lead me to dance. My thoughts dissolved into pure ecstasy and my mind took flight as I fell into the trance of the handsome stranger. We said nothing the whole evening, our movements the only means of communication. Song after song, regardless of beat, we stayed together. Eyes eventually wandered in our direction, whispers wondering my identity, and hating me for my fortune. I retrospect, I know I could have lived in this rapture forever… but living in itself was an incurable problem these days. Suddenly, a tension came over my body, and I glanced at my watch- 11:58 PM. My wrist bones were slowly protruding, my cheeks beginning to sink in, and I only had two minutes left. Silently I slipped from the party, crying first softly then breaking into sobbs as I approached the door. This was the last I’d see of such lively fun for another year. As my skin began to tighten I broke into a quick jog, fearing a public display of human decay. A few miles away from my grave I heard a light clicking behind me, and I turned around to see the dog from the party. Smiling, I petted him with a bony hand, when I heard a voice in the distance. “Don’t run! I only wanted to dance with you! Please…” Just as green eyed boy rounded the corner, I hid in a nearby shrub. Looking dejected, he walked away, kicking a can and muttering as he went. Realizing I had been holding my breath I inhaled, and smelled the most putrid odor imaginable. After shooting an accusing look at the dog, I realized I was smelling my own decomposition, and quickened my pace. The stench grew as I ran, flesh falling off the bone, making a sickening sound as it hit the cement. With only two miles to go, I looked around to see if anyone was still out, when I noticed that the dog was still on my heels… and salivating heavily. It took a moment before it clicked- there was nothing in the world a dog loved more than a big juicy bone, and I was the jackpot. He licked his jowls, slobbering onto pavement. Horrified, I did the only thing I could do: I ran.

I’ve been running for five miles, and I am growing tired now. As my eyes have begun to dry out, I have lost my vision and I’m no longer just out of breath, I have no lungs, and nothing to power my bones with. With my grave five yards away, I slow down my pace, the ravenous dog biting at my heels. The soft dirt I call home calls a silent welcome, a sanctuary to the dangers of mans best friend. Before I slip into my underworld blanket, I remember the night, and the happiness I felt, and remove my right foot. “It’s yours, but show this to green eyes,” I rasp, putting it into the mouth of the dog. Watching the dog lumber I way, I call out into the cemetery, “Thank him for me. I had the time of my afterlife.”